


Talk Less, Smile More

by MissWoodhouse



Series: I Am All The Daughters of My Father's House, And All the Brothers Too [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "breeches roles", Canon Era, Female Burr, Female Hamilton, Gen, disguises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWoodhouse/pseuds/MissWoodhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burr and Hamilton meet for the first time and one (or both) is a woman in disguise.  Cannon era, because it’s “a world in which [a girl’s] only job is to marry rich” and these two aren’t willing to settle for that when there’s any opportunity to avoid it.</p><p>There are two chapters, one from Burr’s perspective, one from Hamilton’s.  They can be read as either two separate universes, or as occurring in the same universe, where neither of them knows the other is in disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aaron Bur, Sir?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about what gender-bent Hamilton casting might mean in terms of Angelica’s struggle with the limiting roles defined by the patriarchy (if you cast any of the politicians as women playing women, for example, then why can't she do the same). But then I also started thinking about the significance of the phrase “Talk less, Smile more” said to or by a woman, and therefore how cool it would be to do “Aaron Burr, Sir” with two women.

“Pardon me. Are you Aaron Burr, sir?”

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

 

The good thing about being passed from relative to relative, Burr reflected, was that none of them actually knew who you were. So when a new set of guardians came to pick up “the Burr children,” they probably hadn’t seen Esther or Sally since Mother died. And back then Esther had been two, so she would have been dressed the same whether she was a boy or a girl. So it was easy, once she’d won Sally over and managed to scrounge up old clothes that had once belonged to one cousin or another, for Esther to become Aaron.

 

Aaron had been the obvious choice, but she sometimes wondered whether she’d chosen correctly. There wasn’t much difference in being named after one parent or the other, especially when she’d hardly known either. But then, if she’d gone with something else, perhaps she could have escaped some of the weight of the legacy. Esther Burr had to be just as clever – no _cleverer_ than her mother, to measure up to the genius daughter of Jonathan Edwards. Which was where the whole mess started really, because it wasn’t fair to instill a love of learning in someone and then send them packing off to the next relation who said they weren’t allowed to go to school because they were a girl.

 

“I heard your name at Princeton”

 

So Aaron Burr (jr.), _obviously_ had to go to the College of New Jersey, and had to be impressive and glorify the name of his father who had been a president there. No, that wasn’t fair. Esther had _wanted_ to go, to the school her father and grandfather had helped found. To be a part of something they had been a part of, maybe then she’d feel like she knew them. But once she was there, the name was a lot to live up to. And somehow keeping pace with expectations meant she graduated early.

 

“So how’d you do it? How’d you graduate so fast?”

“It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed.”

 

So what was with this Hamilton guy, and what entitled him to a no questions asked accelerated degree? It’s not as if College of New Jersey hadn’t given her a hard time too. They rejected her the first time she applied, and she was the daughter – No, son – of one founder and the grandson of another. And its not as if she told them she was planning on graduating in two years. That just…happened.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“That would be nice.”

 

Maybe it was a guy thing. Esther has spent the formative years of her life being told a young lady should be seen and not heard. She learned how to smile sweetly and demurely with such an angelic look on her face that she couldn’t possibly be reciting Latin conjugations in her head while tediously sewing her sampler. Of course, sweet and demure weren’t exactly her buzzwords at the moment, as they’d probably give away her ruse, but the principle still stood. Look unsuspicious and unassuming, threatless, while you talk them around to your point of view so surreptitiously that they hardly realize you’ve spoken at all. In short:

 

“Talk less. Smile more.”

 

And boy, could this kid use that advice. With (probably, she’d be generous) unintended insults and controversial ideas coming out of his mouth at a mile a minute he’d get himself kicked out of every College in the colonies. And yes, the orphan pity card was useful on occasion, but if you drop it in indiscriminately it loses its power. You want to keep that one close to your chest until the time is right.

 

“Burr, the revolution’s imminent. What do you stall for?”

 

Where to begin? Living up to the Burr name inevitably meant some level of notoriety, but Burr had to be very careful. If Aaron Burr drew too much attention to himself, someone might start poking holes in his story and discover Esther hiding underneath. Plus, revolution is messy and in addition to a generally sound desire to avoid death via the gallows or a bullet hole, Burr really wanted to avoid the close quarters of a military encampment. Privacy was kind of fundamental to this whole disguise thing. And if she were ever found out, the idea of being in the company of “lock up your daughters and horses” Mulligan wasn’t exactly comforting.

 

“I’m young scrappy and hungry and I’m not throwing away my shot!”

 

Couldn’t Hamilton see that by being so forward and outspoken that’s exactly what he was doing? Every time you fire a bullet that doesn’t need to be fired, you waste a shot and risk getting hurt by the ricochet.

 

Whatever, not her problem. As long as Hamilton and his cronies didn’t drag her into this mess, they were welcome to do whatever they pleased. She’d hang back and watch, like a young lady on the edges of a ballroom, and wait until an attractive prospect comes her way. Pick the wrong one, and a proper young lady could be stuck for life. She’s been trained in the delicate dance of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aware that there was probably enough stability in Burr’s guardianship and fame in the family that he couldn’t have actually gotten away with disguising himself the way I wrote. But let me have my fun anyway. 
> 
> Hamilton was easy to rename, but Erin (the obvious female cognate of Burr’s name) wasn’t really around in the 18th century. The Burrs clearly had a thing for naming people after family members, so I eventually decided on Esther (Burr’s mother), but I seriously considered going with the very period appropriate “virtue name” Prudence, because that was a name it would be really fun to think of Burr making decisions in order to live up to.


	2. Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton.

“Who’s asking?”

“Oh, well, sure, sir, I’m Alexander Hamilton”

 

Alex _had_ to get smoother on the name thing, or this was not going work. Why did she trip over it? She’d had the whole voyage north to get used to it, and it wasn’t like Alexan _der_ was all that different from Alexan _dra_. Oh God, she had said Alexander, right? What if she slipped up without noticing? She could be found out and everything would be ruined in the space of one small syllable. What was she meant to be talking about again? Right – Burr.

 

“I heard your name at Princeton. I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him.”

 

So that, in hindsight, probably hadn’t been her brightest move. But since what was done was done, the story was certainly a good way to establish her masculine dominance. No one was going to hear stories about Alex Hamilton punching the bursar at the College of New Jersey and assume the Alex in question was a woman. They certainly hadn’t back on the island.

 

Or, well, when they had – because everyone in the neighborhood knew the rough and tumble illegitimate daughter of the woman who’d left her husband for another man – it had been to lecture her on how that wasn’t a proper way for a young woman to behave, and wasn’t she ashamed of herself for it? Not like it mattered anyway. Who was there to behave proper for when you were stuck in the slums with the stain of illegitimacy marring any possible thoughts of marriage prospects?

 

But when she’d put on some of James old clothes – it was cheaper if they could pass them down anyway, and less degrading than begging for other people’s cast offs – and gotten a job no one really cared. She honestly didn’t think they’d bothered to learn her name at all. And then the essay – and it was easy to stay anonymous when all the rich people were pitching in for the faceless charity inspired by her words – and suddenly Alexander Hamilton was her ticket out. Because girls couldn’t go to school – not real school – but boys could if someone would pay.

 

“I wanted to do what you did. Graduate in two, then join the revolution.”

 

But money was tight, so as much as she’d love to savor the experience, she really needed to do the whole higher education thing as efficiently as possible. And she’d heard about Burr, who graduated early – and at sixteen too! – so she went to New Jersey because they’d let Burr do it, but no one would negotiate. And now he was being tight lipped too, and it wasn’t fair, because just because he was a boy didn’t mean she couldn’t be at least as smart.

 

And if she kept being persistent someone had to give her a chance, let her win a name for herself. Well – let Alexander Hamilton win a name for himself, but same difference. And there was revolution brewing, and this could be her chance. She’d earn a degree, then prove herself on the battlefield and be Joan of Arc all over again, except no one would know until it was over and she’d made enough of a name for herself that she’d be safe even if she did come clean about it. And if it did all go up in flames – pun _mostly_ unintended, they’d cleared up that witch-burning nonsense here a couple of years back, right? – at least she’d go out with glory and be remembered.

 

“While we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice.

Talk Less. Smile More.”

 

Wait, what? Keep her trap shut and smile? She wasn’t anyone’s whore to order around, no matter how many people insinuated it about her mother or tried to proposition her. Did Burr know? Had he found her out? Was he trying to put her in her place? Because if so, she was not going to stand for it.

 

“Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“You can’t be serious.”

 

Okay, so maybe that was legitimately this guy’s philosophy in life. Which was absolutely ridiculous. Men! They have all the freedom in the world to hold an opinion, and this one squanders it! But _she_ knew what it was like to be ignored, and now that she had a man’s voice to speak through, she was _going_ to use it for all it was worth. And Burr had a recognized and respected name, which he could use to help make change. And he was wasting it, in favor of what? Comfortability? It disgusted her. If she could just make him see:

 

“If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”


End file.
